


Defenseless

by HamHamNeedsToChill



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Bondage, Erotica, F/M, Pain Kink, SimLola, Smut, Teasing, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24568660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamHamNeedsToChill/pseuds/HamHamNeedsToChill
Summary: Simcoe and Lola have a little fun at the Holy Grounds Brothel, with the infamous bayonet sex scene, with fill in on what happened behind the scenes, and assuming they never got rudely interrupted.
Relationships: John Graves Simcoe/Lola (Turn)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Defenseless

Simcoe pants softly, in a sensual embrace with Lola, kissing her deeply. They were laying down, Lola almost entirely on top of him. Lola pulls away slightly after a moment, sighing as she noticed Simcoe was distracted.

"You have to leave? And you already paid for the whole night..." She pouts, gently caressing his shoulder and chest, as he was shirtless. Simcoe looked up at her, examining her expression.

"Some odds and ends to tie up. But stay here, and I'll be back momentarily." He explains, his tone hardly changing, monotone as ever. Lola giggles softly, grinning at him sweetly.

"You are a curious man, John... And I wonder if you'll miss me." She purrs, leaning closer to him, their lips almost touching. John thought for a moment.

"So do I..." He admitted. Lola hummed, kissing him below his lip gently. Simcoe looks her in the eyes, staring deeply into them for a moment before changing his answer.

"You know my odds and ends can wait." He gently helps Lola sit up, and steadily gets up from the bed, walking over to a nearby table and picking up a small metal glass. 

"Can you read Lola?" He suddenly asks, pouring his refreshment neatly and setting the bottle back. Lola tilted her head curiously, thinking for a moment.

"I can read men." She says curtly, looking up at him from the bed. He turned to face Lola, looking down at her, his expression blank as he stated his question.

"What do you read in me?" He asks quietly, not really any intonation of a question, as if it were a demand about what she thought of him. Lola thought for a moment, sliding her hand over her leg, adjusting, then looking back up at him.

"Sadness, I think." She says softly, thoughtfully looking him over. Those eyes of his, so deep blue, she thought them deeper than the very ocean, a window into the depths of his soul. She could read him mostly from his eyes alone. God knew there was little she could read off him elsewhere, aside from the occasional scar she found on his body. 

"You're a man who only shows one side of himself to the world, the hard side, and keeps another hidden away." She explains thoughtfully, almost sounding sad. Simcoe hardly reacted, still looking at her blankly as he thought on her response.

"When one values strength, one's drawn to it in others." He says simply, moving his hand with his drink as if to annunciate his point. "In an ally, a foe, even a lover." He finishes, watching Lola slowly get up from the bed and walk up to him, adjusting her shirt to cover her shoulder. She gets close, and Simcoe turns to directly face her, as if to be more defensive. Simcoe was much taller than her, but Lola looked at him as if the height difference wasn't there, as an equal.

"Do you trust me?" She asks boldly, looking him in the eyes, studying his expression, when there was none. Simcoe swallowed to clear his throat, hardly thinking about his response before he said it.

"I barely know you." He states simply. Lola thought for barely a moment before looking at his chest. She gently set her hand there, her fingers lightly grazing his skin as she moved her hand up. Her hand continued up to his neck, her nails grazing his collarbone. Finally she slid her hand up a little quicker, grabbing him by the throat, just below his jaw, and forcing his head to tilt up a bit, her thumb and index finger managing to squish his cheeks a little. His eyes widen slightly, and he groaned softly, dropping his glass of madeira, excitement flaring up his stomach. Lola looked up at him dangerously. 

"Oh, trust me anyway." She whispers. John thought for a moment, nodding slightly. Lola hums, letting his neck go. Simcoe looks down at Lola curiously, wondering how someone smaller than him could be so confident as to grab his neck, and expect him to simply take it. He knew she was different from the moment he laid eyes on her, but he hadn't expected such courage from a woman, much less one smaller than himself.

"What do you have planned? You have me intrigued." He says quietly, walking over to a nearby chair and sitting down in it. A tent post was just behind the chair, not doubt strategically placed. Lola tilted her head, thinking.

"What do you want?" She asks softly, wondering what his answer would be. Simcoe swallowed, thinking for a moment. He decided to be vague, rather than give her an easy answer. He wanted to know what she would do. 

"I want to trust you." He says simply. Lola smiles, getting up off her knees and pulling off his pants. She smiles, gently caressing his length. Simcoe sighed contently, relaxing a bit against her alluring touch. Lola gripped it more firmly, pumping his length slowly. She watched Simcoe's breath quicken as she pleasured him.

"You're excited, aren't you?" She asks mischievously. Simcoe nods, letting out a soft moan as she squeezed his cock tightly, teasing the poor man.

"Do you object to letting me take control? Let me try something more... exciting?" She asks with a smile. Simcoe's expression finally changed, his brow furrowing slightly.

"That depends. What are you going to do?" He asks. Lola looked around the tent, walking over to a corner and picking up a bit of rope. Simcoe watched her walk back over, and walk behind him. He was about to ask more firmly about what she was doing, when she suddenly grabbed his hands and tied them behind his back, to the post. He squirmed a little, the feeling of helplessness was not a common thing he felt, and not necessarily a welcome feeling. He looks at her with wide eyes as she walked back around, simply admiring her handiwork.

"Look what I caught." She teases, kneeling in front of him. Simcoe shuddered, pulling against his restraints futilely. Lola looked up at him with a glint in her eyes, watching him intently as she slid her hands up his thighs slowly, gently squeezing as she got to his waist. Simcoe let out a shaky breath, clearly somewhat excited. She giggles at his reaction. Playing with him like this was a game to her, and she loved every moment of it. 

Letting go of his length, she walked over to Simcoe's uniform, which was arranged neatly at the foot of the bed. She pulled out his bayonet, turning it in her hands, testing the sharpness of the serrated blade with her finger. She looks up at Simcoe, and smirks as she saunters back over to him. She climbs into his lap, holding his length straight up, and with a little adjusting, managed to seat herself on his cock, and settle in. She sighed contently, feeling him twitch inside her. Simcoe shudders at the warmth and tightness, tugging at his restraints and wriggling his hands a little in discomfort. He knew what Lola was thinking, and was intrigued.

"I should warn you that blade has brought death to many, and pain enough to make others long for it." He says softly, wary of the blades past, knowing exactly what it could do. Lola playfully turned the blade in her hands.

"But it's never brought fear to you, before now?" She asks tauntingly, almost letting a smirk appear on her lips. Simcoe didn't let himself show any change in expression, looking up at Lola bravely.

"I am not afraid." He says calmly, in the odd high tone his voice typically was set to. Lola let out a small giggle, as if not believing him. 

"Because you trust I won't hurt you?" She asks playfully, knowing that she was going use the blade on him already. But Simcoe might not have known that. Simcoe's expression didn't change, but his tone lowered to a more dangerous level.

"Because I trust that if you do, you know the consequences would be fatal." His last word was slightly higher in tone, as if to insinuate his point. Lola looked down at him, her eyes almost looking sad, and her tone reflecting the same.

"Maybe I've seen so much..." She began, pressing the tip of the bayonet blade to his pec, pressing in slightly. Simcoe's breath quickened. "...I don't fear consequences." She finished, keeping the pressure on the blade as she slowly dragged it across his skin. Simcoe's expression twisted into a snarl of pain at first, sucking in a breath through his teeth, but it quickly gave way to a less intense expression of pleasure, letting out the breath in a moan-like manner. He continued to breath laboriously, his breath quick and shallow, the pain and pleasure he was feeling was evident as he bit his lip. Lola was amused by John's reaction.

"Does it feel good, to take your armor off? And put yourself in my hands?" She asks, studying his expression carefully as his breathing slowed, and barely gained any composure he had left.

"Tell me." She insists with a sensual tone, purposefully tightening herself around his cock. Simcoe took one shaky breath before responding, almost sounding desperate.

"Ye-es..." His breath hitches in the middle of speaking, a shudder going up his back at the demanding question. Lola adjusted her grip on his treasured bayonet, almost tempting Simcoe to look at it. She barely thought for a moment before another question came to mind.

"You don't take me like other men do..." She says thoughtfully, her head tilted to one side, like a curious pup. "You want me to like it too, why?" She asks, straightening her neck and gazing into his eyes. Simcoe suddenly let a twinge of fear flash across his expression.

"I don't know!" He admits, his tone clearly stating that this was the case. Lola smirks, setting her hand against his collarbone, and bringing the bayonet close to his face, taunting him with it. The serrated blade was luminous in the dull light. Simcoe's eyes snapped toward the bayonet, only glancing back up at Lola once to study her expression, evaluating if she was playing with him, or if she really was going to kill him, as his subconscious had suggested.

"I think it's because you want me to feel something, you want to see just a little bit of love in my eyes." She purrs, putting her emphasis on the word 'love'. She slid her hand to the back of his neck, and pressed the edge of the blade to his neck gently, knowing the danger would make things more exciting for him. She raised herself up on his cock, the small amount of friction making her take a deep breath, quickly followed by Simcoe's own inhale. 

"Don't deny it." She says softly, lowering herself back down on John's length, making him let out the most sensual moan she had yet heard from him, his breath shaking. "Don't fear it." She insists, slowly forming a rhythm as she raised and lowered herself on his length, making them both moan deeply, the pleasure intense from how excited they had become. Lola let out a sensual, breathy moan, turning her head away a bit. 

"Oh, to care what other people think, even people you barely know," She slid her hand up to his throat, forcing him to tilt his head up a bit. " Maybe that's the way to the love you want." She says, her voice still dripping with lust, sounding breathless. They moaned together, Lola bouncing on his length with a slow rhythm that was likely driving Simcoe mad. She carefully brought the bayonet behind him to his restraints, managing to cut the rope he was bound with. The moment they were cut, his hands leapt to her waist, squeezing her tight enough that Lola was sure she would have bruises where his fingers were. Lola dropped the bayonet as this was done, and it clattered against the ground, the sharp sound stark in contrast to their breathy moans.

"Say my name." She demanded, Simcoe's hands guiding her into a slightly faster pace, his breathing fast, and steadily getting louder as he felt the intense heat of climax creeping up on him. Lola growls, adopting a more aggressive tone. 

"Say my name." She huffs, holding his neck tighter, squeezing the sides as she leaned closer to him. "Say it." She demanded again. Simcoe let out what almost sounded like an amused laugh under his breath, still focused on the pleasure she was giving him. "Say it." She growled, growing increasingly frustrated that he wasn't, moving her hips up and down faster. Simcoe let his eyes close, absorbed in the pleasure as focused on breathing, even this simple task growing more difficult as Lola's grip on his throat tightened. The burning fire of climax was threatening to burn it's brightest with every passing second. "Say it." She demanded for the last time, squeezing around his cock. Simcoe moans sensually, his eyes squeezing shut as his climax threatened to spill over. He gasps as he suddenly came hard into Lola, his breathing hitching.

"Lola!" He moans sharply, bucking his hips up into her. Lola moans with him, holding him tighter as she climaxed around him, her walls gripping him like a clamp. Lola huffs, shaking with pleasure as she rode out their climaxes. They slowly relax, Lola melting into him sleepily. Simcoe smiles, scooping Lola up under her legs, and carrying her back to her bed. He lays her down gently, smiling sweetly. 

"Are you still curious about me?" He asks quietly, laying down with her and grazing his hands across her shoulder sweetly. Lola hums softly, a smile finding its way to her plump lips.

"A bit, I'll have to learn more about you the next time you visit me." She purrs, playfully grazing her nails against his chest, and over the cut on his pec, which by this point had stopped bleeding. Simcoe bit his lip, letting out a shaky breath.

"I look forward to our next encounter." He says softly, laying his head down and wrapping an arm around her waist. "For now, let us retire... And embrace the release of sleep." He suggests. Lola's smile grew, and she relaxed in his arms.

"Yes. Let's." She responds, letting this be their final words before their bodies urged them to sleep. Finally the tent was silent, and the hustle and bustle of Holy Grounds drew to a close.


End file.
